Main Hoon. Na Apr 2026

Kavya had called him at 11 p.m., voice fractured and low. “Arjun, I think I’m going to do it. Tonight. I just wanted someone to know why.” Then a click. Then silence. He had run twelve kilometers through broken streets and sleeping colonies, his lungs burning, because his scooter had chosen that precise evening to die.

“I’m not here to fix you, Kavya.”

The silence stretched. A train horn moaned in the distance. Somewhere, a cat screamed. Life continued its brutal, beautiful rhythm. main hoon. na

He didn’t rush to hug her. He didn’t say everything will be okay . He simply took off his jacket—wet, torn, useless—and laid it over her shoulders. Kavya had called him at 11 p